KOTOR
by Ash Veran
Summary: This is a compilation of my Revan, Malak, and Exile one-shots. Don't expect any sort of pattern. Some will be song-fics, some not. R&R! I've added two new chapters within the last day and will possibly add another before the day is over.
1. Confrontation

**Disclaimer: I don't own this. Keep your cool.**

**Alright, the confrontation on the Leviathan from Malak's point of veiw. So you had better reveiw to tell me if it's good or bad. Please?**

* * *

It was her, without a doubt. No woman I had ever met had hair blacker than hers. And the tattooed cheeks were as hers as the hair. Only her eyes, storm gray, were different than I remembered. In the light, they flashed silver, not the steely gold I was remembered.

She spoke with more bitterness, more sarcasm, more weight behind words. Her eyes, as fierce and wild as those of a Corellian sand panther, hid something. I wondered briefly what it was before deciding I didn't care.

She was Revan, but she was not the Revan I knew.

"So, Revan, do you seek justice or revenge at this meeting?" She raised an eyebrow, mouth curling into a half-smirk.

"Revan, huh? You been at spice?" She really didn't know. I laughed.

"Oh, you really didn't know? This is rich." I gloated. She was looking at me, nonplussed.

"Yeah, I think you've been at spice. Unless the dark side has the same effect as spice." She looked me over dismissively, as if I were an insect that almost merited crushing. "Though there are much less pleasant side effects. I could almost call you Darth Hideous. Now, if you would be so kind as to move out of our way, I'd like to get back to my ship. Things to do, places to be." She said airily. "Nothing against your hospitality, of course, but I couldn't possibly impose any longer." She made a shooing motion, her smirk shifting to a careless grin.

"You are Revan." I repeated. "_Revan_." She rolled her eyes.

"Yeah, and you're a pink mynock, right, Bastila?" After a moment, she twisted to look at Bastila. She recognized the guilt on the young woman's face. I pressed a memory of mine to her, a memory in which she was removing her mask. She examined it carefully, and met my eyes. Hers flickered from silver to gold, then back to silver. "So, Bastila, how exactly did this happen?"

She listened to me and Bastila both. She was absolutely calm. That was Revan, as sure as I was Malak. Then she met my eyes again. Hers glittered sharply, storm gray pocked with amber. She ignited her lightsabers, one blue, one green.

"I guess I've been waiting a long time for this." She said calmly. I knew that kind of calm. With a wave of my hand, I froze Bastila and the soldier. She leaped, not at me, but over me. I stepped forward just in time to keep from being cleaved into pieces. All the same, I felt the very tips of her lightsabers sear into my back.

Her fighting skill had clearly not diminished. If anything, it had grown. I was barely able to keep up with her attacks, so fast they were. Gathering my strength, I trapped her in a Force whirlwind and fled. She didn't make a sound as she battled it down, only giving my retreating back her hottest glare.

I zapped the life from a pair of soldiers, healing myself, augmenting my strength. And not a moment too soon. She came at me, having gone around the long way. She was a firestorm, lethal elegance and grace. But I saw a mistake and grabbed her neck with the Force. She hung from my grasp, not even bothering to scrabbled uselessly at her throat or kick her legs. She merely glared, silver-gold eyes dark.

"You might make a very nice pet." I said musingly, hoping to rattle her. "Chained to my throne when I become emperor." She curled her lip.

"Like that'll happen." She hissed. "I'm not dying today. And I am nobody's _pet_." Her voice had elevated to a snarl and she flung me into the wall. She fell to her knees, gasping, and picked up her sabers. "Shall we finish this?" She spat. There was a thread of emotion in her voice.

"Upset, Revan?" I snarled right back.

"What do you think, brainless?"

"And a wonderful pet you would be." I mused. She laughed.

"Pet?" Her voice cracked. "You cannot tame a wildfire." With that she leaped. I didn't know what she was doing, but I raised my saber to block her attack, grabbing one of her ankles. I threw her. She hit the wall with a sickening crack, sliding down into a heap of black clothing.

"Seems you're a worse fighter than I remember." She got to her feet, eyes sliding into focus.

"Keep dreaming, baldie." She spat furiously. Her lightsabers flew to her hands. "If anybody is dying, it's you." But I could sense her weakening. Saul Karath had said she had collapsed from torture, and I assumed she had annihilated the people on the bridge. It was catching up with her. I froze her in stasis, twirling my lightsaber before the final blow.

I heard the hum of a third saber and blocked a flying yellow bar. Revan flew out of the room, practically into the arms of the soldier.

"Go!" Bastila shouted, as the doors close. "Find the Star Forge!" She raced to attack me, her lightsaber in hand. I defeated Bastila, leaving her gasping on the floor, before racing out of the room. Revan was gone, but I could dimly sense her fury as I saw a pair of explosions.

And then she was gone. I cursed, even as I knew that Revan would be back. For whatever reason, she would be back. And I would be ready.


	2. Lie

**Disclaimer: I don't own Darth Revan or Evanescence. Sad but true.**

**This is about as angsty as I get. If you like angst, enjoy! This is Ash (from _Identity_) if she had taken some things differently. Or if she had realized some things sooner. Or if the crew had been standoffish. Whatever. Here's your story. (And I've purposely left the ending for you to decide.)**

* * *

_How can you see into my eyes like open doors?_  
_Leading you down into my core where I've become so numb_  
_Without a soul, my spirit sleeping somewhere cold_  
_Until you find it there and lead it back home_

Revan was tired. She was so tired.

She hated keeping her face hidden so no one could read it. She'd sold her soul and she wasn't going to get it back. She couldn't even look her golden-eyed reflection in the eye anymore.

"I'm so far gone…" she murmured, something stirring in her cold core.

_Wake me up_  
_(Wake me up inside)_  
_I can't wake up_  
_(Wake me up inside)_  
_Save me_  
_(Call my name and save me from the dark)_

It was harder and harder to wake up. She felt so damn guilty. Everyone she could depend on was dead and gone or twisted beyond help.

Malak, her one-time friend and lover, wanted her throne. Kaye, her general and best friend, was exiled and drinking her way across the rim. Jaq, who she might have once considered taking into her confidence, had fled (smart man).

She straightened her shoulders proudly (the dark lady could be nothing but proud and arrogant and powerful) and stalked (because walking was too common) to the bridge. Arms crossed over her armored chest (so she didn't look like the woman she was), she watched the Republic ships drop out of hyperspace.

_Wake me up_  
_(Bid my blood to run)_  
_I can't wake up_  
_(Before I come undone)_  
_Save me_  
_(Save me from the nothing I've become)_

She couldn't just lie down and die (she had a galaxy to save, even if they didn't know it). She couldn't surrender (Sith never gave up—they fought to the death—she would know—she taught her followers to be Sith, some poor imitation of the true thing, deep in space).

The last Dark Jedi in front of her fell, neatly sliced in half by a golden saber. She sighed with resignation and ignited her single red saber, flourishing the blade elegantly.

"You cannot win, Revan."

She laughed inside. What did this Jedi girl-child (even if she was a 'prodigy') think she could do? Revan had been a prodigy once and that had ended when she joined the Mandalorian Wars. She learned fast how to fight brutally, how to kill the Mandalorians that were harder to kill than a swarm of flies.

What did the Jedi take her for? A girl-child prodigy could not hurt her. And they had just delivered a precious prize into her lap.

_Now that I know what I'm without_  
_You can't just leave me_  
_Breathe into me and make me real_  
_Bring me to life_

She knew everything should hurt (and it was really bad that nothing hurt).

She knew she should be worried about the fingers prying away her mask (she can't bring herself to care—everything is so hazy).

Two blue dots (_eyes_, she thinks dimly) hover above her.

She feels a pull, the Force trying to take her. She fights it with all her strength (very little remains—she's exhausted herself with all of her internal struggles).

As her eyes (no, no, no!) slide closed, she is vaguely aware of a tentative offer of help. She claws at it (naturally locking away anything in her head that's valuable).

She doesn't feel the Force pulling her to shreds any longer, but she does feel the murky blackness growing as… as… (as her mind shatters).

_Wake me up_  
_(Wake me up inside)_  
_I can't wake up_  
_(Wake me up inside)_  
_Save me_  
_(Call my name and save me from the dark)_

A woman blinks. She closes her eyes again (the light is harsh) and thinks.

Every… (she falters, grasping for a word)… muscle in her body aches.

Ash. The word echoes through her pounding skull. She dredges different meanings for the word (?) from the dark recesses of her mind.

Ash is hardened lava (lava?) ground to a fine powder. Ash is the pale residue that remains after something burns. Ash is gray. Ash is a deathly pallor. Ash is a type of plant (tree, isn't it?). Ash is… (she flounders)… Ash is her name.

She is puzzled. She wants to ask what kind of name Ash is, but her tongue is thick and clumsy.

_Wake me up_  
_(Bid my blood to run)_  
_I can't wake up_  
_(Before I come undone)_  
_Save me_  
_(Save me from the nothing I've become)_

The woman who walks in (Ash vaguely remembers that she could walk) makes Ash want to leap to her feet and fight (why does she want to fight?).

She feels a sharp pang of absence, but she doesn't know what's missing. The air around her has a peculiar flavor.

She eagerly guzzles the cool liquid (water, not poisoned, her mind quickly informs her) that is dribbled down her throat.

Her tongue shapes words. "Where am I?" Her words are sharp and crisp. Curious, she flexes her hands and notes that her fingers curl and uncurl readily.

"You're in a Republic medical facility, miss." The woman informs her kindly (kindly? that's not how it's supposed to be). "You managed to survive your ship blowing up behind you, but your back has some nasty scars."

Scars? She frowns (Ash shouldn't have scars).

She gasps as pictures flood her mind, a river of jumbled memories.

"You were very lucky there was a Jedi around or you would never have woken up."

Her lip curls in disdain (why in disdain, she asks herself). "_Jetii_." She sneers.

_I've been living a lie_  
_There's nothing inside_  
_Bring me to life_

She remembers why she hates Jedi as soon as one walks in (arrogant _hut'uun_).

The slimy cowards let her homeworld burn when the Mandalorians came. The slimy cowards left her in the clutches of Mandalorians for two weeks—she barely made it out alive. (She wonders about these memories. They don't fit quite right in her mind.)

Ash sits herself up, sheet pulled over her bare torso, arms crossed aggressively. "Yeah?" She sneers.

"I have a job offer."

She doesn't have much choice, so she listens and grudgingly accepts.

She resents her lack of choice with burning focus, learned focus (she wonders where she learned).

_Frozen inside without your touch_  
_Without your love, darling_  
_Only you are the life among the dead_

She hadn't expected to become very… attracted to the man who'd fallen from the Endar Spire with her. She hadn't expected to like him. She felt wary of it, though, as if some previous love affair had turned out badly. She also felt an attraction to the Mandalorian (that buried part of her she's always slightly aware of).

She's surprised by how much she's attached to the Twi'lek child, who acts tougher than she is. She's attached to the old man and his silly stories (that made a twisted kind of sense if one thought about them too long). The red droid is hilarious (for an assassin droid, at any rate—she's not sure if it's a good thing she finds the droid funny). The Wookiee is a taciturn companion on the hunt. The Cathar is passionate and strong, conflicted over her past. The astromech is good at dejarik (but not as good as her).

Even the Jedi Princess, the girl-child prodigy (the phrase feels familiar), isn't so bad (once one gets past the cold-fish Jedi façade and snobbery).

As Ash stands before Malak, she feels… something (fear? rage? hate? love? lust?). She's dizzy from torture, confused by Saul's word games.

"You are Revan."

She is about to deny (it can't be possible!) when a vision slams into her, disjointed fragments swirling together to make a whole that ended with her face, twisted by the dark side, under Revan's mask.

Her shoulders shake a minute (how could they not?) while Malak gloats and Bastila excuses.

She's had enough.

"Shut up!" she snarls, lightsabers flaring from the hilts (two guard shotos, indigo and jade). She blocks his deep scarlet (blood) lightsaber with fluid grace and attacks with brutal finesse (she wasn't sure she'd learned these things on Dantooine—they were more like a muscle memory made by years).

_All this time, I can't believe I couldn't see_  
_Kept in the dark but you were there in front of me_  
_I've been sleeping a thousand years it seems_  
_Got to open my eyes to everything_

Flung into the wall by the Force (it damn hurt!), she's going into shock. There's blood flowing from her mouth, where she bit her lip. She thinks there's a cracked rib, maybe two.

She pushes to her (unsteady) feet anyways. The physical pain, she knows, won't be even close to her mental trauma when everything really sinks in (it's started to—she's gotten sloppy).

A wave of the Force pitches her backwards, out of the room (into Carth).

"Find the Star Forge!"

Ash tries to stumble forward, but her trembling legs won't hold her. (She's weak and she hates it.)

"Don't let Bastila's sacrifice be in vain!" Carth snarls, jerking her into a stumbling run for the _Ebon Hawk_.

_Without thought, without voice, without a soul_  
_Don't let me die here_  
_There must be something more_  
_Bring me to life_

Ash was drained. She couldn't muster up any emotion as she mechanically told the crew about her being Revan. She could only muster a flare of temper at Carth (who was he to accuse her?).

"I didn't ask for this!" She snarled. "If you wanna blame anybody about this mess, blame the Jedi Council—it's not like they told me!"

"Let's get you patched up," Jolee said.

She looked at him (why hadn't he told her? why wasn't he bothered?). She followed him to the medbay, though, obediently sitting still as he patched her up (bandages to brace her ribs so the Force Healing could set, a touch of Force healing to her lip).

She thanks him dully and heads for the alcohol. She needs _something_ and there isn't going to be a person (Carth) showing up. They all blame her, after all.

_Wake me up_  
_(Wake me up inside)_  
_I can't wake up_  
_(Wake me up inside)_  
_Save me_  
_(Call my name and save me from the dark)_

When they all land on Manaan, Ash is sober (because there isn't anything more to drink).

She's unhappy, clearly hasn't slept much. But she paints a smile on (she has to look like a Jedi here—it'll actually help) and makes the bags under her eyes vanish.

How can she help that she's spiraling down? (They've all abandoned her.)

She squares her shoulders (slim, delicate shoulders) and take the burden of the galaxy once again.

_Wake me up_  
_(Bid my blood to run)_  
_I can't wake up_  
_(Before I come undone)_  
_Save me_  
_(Save me from the nothing I've become)_

The trip to the Star Forge is a long one.

Ash is proud that she manages to avoid everyone. It's difficult on the small ship, but she wants to be alone. (It's best that way, she'd decided.)

Nobody else gets hurt.

_I've been living a lie_  
_There's nothing inside_  
_Bring me to life_

She can't, she can't, she can't.

She wants to scream. She doesn't want to go into that temple. She really, really doesn't want to go alone. (At this point, the galaxy can go to hell for all she cares.)

But she smiles confidently, straightens her shoulders (slim, delicate shoulders, unbowed by the weight of the galaxy) and tells the Rakata Elders that it won't be a problem. They believe her (she's Revan, everyone believes her) and tell her to be at the temple by next dawn.

She (secretly—leaders can't have doubts) wonders when her smiling, perfect mask will be shattered. She wonders if anyone will pull her from darkness. (She doubts anyone cares that much.)


	3. OUT!

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything. I only wish I did.**

* * *

"You cannot win, Revan." Bastila said coolly, brandishing her lightsaber. The deceptively small figure of Revan, Dark Lord of the Sith, seemed to shudder with laughter.

But Revan merely flourished his lightsabers, the blood-red blade illuminating the blood-red T-shape visor on the black mask that hid the face, the violet blade casting shadows across the black robes. Suddenly, an explosion rocked the bridge. Bastila, her three companions, and Revan fell. Bastila got up, crawling to Revan. She could sense a spark of life.

She called out to the Force, fanning the spark into the tiniest of flames. Then she took off the mask and looked at the face it revealed with utter shock.

Revan was a beautiful woman. Obsidian black hair framed a pale oval face. Full red lips complimented a straight, elegant nose. A stubborn jaw and chin took away what could have been classically elegant beauty.

But it was the eyes that were truly captivating. Gray-gold that looked more like silver-gold. They shone with defiance and grim determination before sliding closed. Bastila shook herself, stripping away the heavy outer robe to reveal a feminine form in a skintight jumpsuit.

Bastila, who was tall and strong, picked up the shorter woman. The dark lord was bony, unhealthily skinny. She left the bridge as fast as she could, only stopping to gather the lightsabers of her fallen comrades.

* * *

"Masters, I have captured Revan." Bastila kept her head bowed. "However, my team did not make it."

"You captured Revan?" Zhar sounded incredibly shocked.

"Yes, but she is barely alive. Malak fired on the bridge of her flagship, and…" Bastila trailed off, shrugging helplessly.

"Do your best to keep her alive. We shall discuss her fate when you arrive, if she is still alive." Master Vandar said firmly. Bastila nodded and the transmission was cut. Bastila turned to look at the comatose woman, worry twisting in her belly.

* * *

_Get out of my mind!_ She screamed mentally, fury and terror lending her strength.

_Revan._ Zhar said gently. _We only wish to help. _That prompted dark laughter.

_You wish to erase me, to wipe away me. Replace me with some Republic pawn. That will never happen! I am pain and darkness._ Her mental voice was almost sing-song. _Dark because of pain, pain because of darkness. All to save what I loved, what I hated._ But then her anger returned and she threw up a blazing white wall. _Out!_

The masters were thrown out of her mind, their bodies stumbling back a few steps. They looked at the comatose woman, deciding it was best to leave for a little while. In a chamber, far enough away, they sat down and faced each other.

"She will not let go easily." Master Vrook said grudgingly.

"She seems to be on the edge of madness." Dorak said sadly. "I cannot imagine what would bring her to that. She has so much strength."

"All the same, we must continue. She has somehow rejected the two other identities we managed to put in place." Vrook said.

"They're too… they're the wrong identities for her. If we want her mind to accept and identity, we need one that she will believe." Zhar said, fighting back bitter laughter. "She will not be complacent in any way, nor will she make any of this easy for us."

"She might be a smuggler or a scout, perhaps even a soldier."

"A smuggler would fit her personality, but it would not explain her skill with blades. And if she were a soldier, she would never be just a soldier. She's too intelligent to be a soldier for ten years and never be noticed." Zhar commented mildly.

"Perhaps she could have been a soldier, one of some elite team or another. Something caused her to resign and she took up smuggling." Dorak suggested.

"That is a very good idea." Master Vandar said consideringly. "That is an identity that may stick. When we are sufficiently rested, we should go and implement the basic elements of it.

* * *

The next day, Revan repeated _Out. Out. Out. _in her head, a mantra. She was fighting a losing battle. This new identity… it could be her. She had no strength left to fight, anyway. So she kept up her mantra, locking away her memories. That much, she could do.

She imagined them in a vault of Mandalorian iron, inside ten inches of the metal. She covered the vault with happy memories of her childhood, her few fuzzy images of her mother.

It wasn't much. But these memories were hers and hers alone. She needed them.

Revan, unable to fight, faded into blackness.

* * *

"Hello, my dear." Ash looked up into a pale face. Her vision was blurry.

"Who are you?" She tried to say. The words came out garbled and incoherent.

"Who are you, little one?" Ash blinked.

" 'M Ash." She slurred. The face beamed and a hand reached for her brow.


	4. Let It Die: Malak

**Disclaimer: Much as I would like to, I don't own Three Day's Grace _or_ Star Wars.**

**You people had better review. And yes, I'm transferring my Let It Die series to my KOTOR one-shot title.**

* * *

_We had fire in our eyes  
In the beginning I  
Never felt so alive  
In the beginning you  
You blame me but  
It's not fair when you say that I didn't try  
I just don't wanna hear it anymore_

"Hey, Rev, you comin'?" Her best friend yelled.

Revan, ten years old, put her hands on her hips. "Kreia's still annoyed at me for last time I did something. Wait a week."

Alek had a grin. "Come on, Rev. You know you want to!"

Revan laughed, a bright, musical laugh. "Well… okay. But we gotta be careful." Alek pumped a fist in triumph, glad he had talked his mischievous best friend into it. They walked away, discussing a plan in low tones.

Jedi watched the pair, grimacing at the thought of the mischief to come.

_I swear I never meant to let it die  
I just don't care about you anymore  
It's not fair when you say that I didn't try  
I just don't care about you anymore  
We had time on our side_

"Al, hand me that hydrospanner. I think I found the problem."

"Sure, Rev." Revan easily caught the hydrospanner, then buried her head back in the swoop bike engine. It had been a gift from Kreia for her sixteenth birthday. From a junkyard, but Revan loved to build things. She was good at it.

A few moments later, she pulled her grease-smutched face out of the engine, putting the hydrospanner back on the table. "Good to go." She said cheerfully, with a smile that lit up her whole face. She didn't notice the loving look Alek gave her as she cleaned the grease off and shed the oil-spotted coveralls, revealing her leather racing outfit. Her _tight_ leather racing outfit. She mounted the bike and started the engine.

"Good luck on the track!" Alek called as she idled the bike away. His brown gaze was worried. He was used to his friend's reckless nature.

That didn't mean he liked it.

"She'll be fine." Kaye was as worried as him, though.

"I know. But she'll also do something stupid."

Kaye smiled wryly. He returned the smile, and they went to sit down.

_In the beginning we  
We had nothing to hide  
In the beginning you  
You blame me but  
It's not fair when you say that I didn't try  
I just don't wanna hear it anymore  
I swear I never meant to let it die_

"Revan, are you sure this is a good idea?" He wished Kaye was there, not leading an assult somewhere else in the galaxy. He felt that they should be the terrible three, on the day of their first battles. Not two and one.

Revan looked out from the shadow of her cloak's hood, the mask from Cathar shining dully. She was about to lead her first offence, a space battle.

"Al, if we don't help, nobody will. The Mandalorians aren't going to stop burning planets, and the Jedi Council won't be helping anytime soon." Her voice trembled a little bit. "If the Republic had done something ten years ago, we wouldn't be in this much trouble. But they didn't, and we have to deal with it." Her breath caught.

Alek understood what his friend needed. He gave her a gentle hug, ever reminded of her tiny frame and fragile bones. She was such a little thing.

"Thank you." Revan's voice had a hint of roughness as she pulled away. There was a knock on the door of the room. Revan straightened, back to being the general.

_I just don't care about you anymore  
It's not fair when you say that I didn't try  
I just don't care about you anymore_

Revan rarely took her mask off. Malak knew she was an emotional wreck, drinking and not sleeping, always planning the next attack. Malak knew he shouldn't love her, that she didn't love him. He knew, and it pained him.

"Revan." He put a large hand on one of her slim shoulders. He was shocked at how very fragile she looked, pale and tired, without her bulky robes and mask. She had never had a very womanly figure, and it made it all the more apparent that she was too thin. "Revan, you need to eat something."

It was late at night, in one of the rooms she used to plan strategy. "I'm fine." She said dismissively, gazing at the plans for the Mass Shadow Generator.

"No, you _need_ to eat something. And Kaye would say the same."

She faced him. In her eyes, there was a tiny glint of humor. Something sad, too, but he disregarded it as weariness. "I'm fine, Mal. Really, I am. I ate about an hour ago, okay?"

Malak regarded the glint of humor as an improvement.

"So, how's Kaye doing on Malachor?"

Revan smiled, just a little. "She's the smart and sensible one, remember?"

_You say that I didn't try  
You say that I didn't try  
You say that I didn't try_

Revan paced in front of the door. She was sunk in her own thoughts, ignoring Malak. Coming to a decision, she made the door open. They approached the Star Map. Malak's eyes flamed with dreams of power.

He cringed at the thought of what could be hidden by his friend's mask. He wondered if she was darker than him, after the Unknown Regions. He wondered if she was the same Revan.

Then he saw her in a new light. His master… his competition for the title of 'lord'.

He began plotting.

_I swear I never meant to let it die  
I just don't care about you anymore  
It's not fair when you say that I didn't try  
I just don't care about you anymore_

Revan sent out a scream as her ship blew up. A massive Force blow hit Malak's mind. He flinched at the words bombarding his brain.

Traitor. Backstabber.

They hurt. They shouldn't. Malak hardened his heart and gave out orders to continue firing. He had taken more than enough from Revan. She had cut off his jaw, after all.

He didn't notice the ship that slipped away.

_I just don't care about you anymore  
I just don't care about you anymore  
I just don't care about you anymore  
I just don't care about you anymore_

She faced him, the pale eyes he remembered so well gleaming pink in the red light. He briefly wondered how he looked, sickly pale, with cracked skin and yellow eyes.

Her face was pale, though not because of the dark side. He remembered her as pale, always pale. Burned in the sun, and swore when it hurt. Her eyes glittered with amusement. Her white garments, in bad shape, revealed what heavy robes had hidden.

He saw the fear in Bastila's eyes, the anger in the soldier's. He saw the mild irritation in hers. And he knew that she didn't know. He saw that her world would shatter when he found out.

"Surely the Jedi Council couldn't keep the truth from you forever?" He would have grinned. She had tensed, her eyes glittering furiously. "You're smart, _Revan_."

She stiffened and he knew what was happening. This girl was not so different from the Revan he had loved. The Revan he still had a holopic and an attachment to. She was having a vision.

"Is it true, Bastila?" Vanara Revan, for that was her full name, asked Bastila.

"Yes." Bastila admitted, staring at the floor. "It was our-"

Vanara cut her off with a flick of her wrist. "I forgive you." The anger in her eyes said otherwise. "But we'll be having a _long_ talk later."

Malak laughed gleefully. This was good, just too good! "You are weak, a fragment of what you used to be!" He hissed. "My triumph is complete!"

Her head swung to him, eyes narrowed menacingly, mouth set in a line that was half-grim and half-joyful. Malak knew that look. He remembered it from some of the battles. "But I'm still alive." She said, too sweetly. Then a scream of rage erupted from her throat as her eyes flashed smoky amber, then gold.

Malak raised his lightsaber. He didn't care anymore.

That's what he told himself.


	5. Let It Die: Exile

**Disclaimer: As impossible as it sounds, KOTOR isn't mine.**

* * *

_We had fire in our eyes  
In the beginning I  
Never felt so alive_

Kaye Starrunner was just a baby when the Jedi found her, strong in the Force. A pretty baby by all accounts, with blue eyes and white-blonde hair, fine as down.

They took her to the nurseries on Dantooine, where she grew to a pretty youngling, with bright blue eyes and platinum blonde hair. She was tall for her age as well, almost gangly.

_In the beginning you  
You blame me but  
It's not fair when you say that I didn't try  
I just don't wanna hear it anymore_

She'd heard of Revan and Alek. The terrible two, the masters called them.

But it was different to see the two teens, her two fellow padawans, already famed within the order for their skill.

She looked at them, eyes taking in the details. Revan was short with glossy hair the color of jet in a braid that would have dragged on the floor, if it hadn't been loosely coiled around her throat, like some exotic animal or an expensive scarf. Revan had storm gray eyes, a slight, tomboyish figure, and a perpetual smile, though Kaye could have called it a smirk.

Alek was as different as he could be, very tall and very gangly with a mop of floppy brown hair and serious brown eyes. He wore an armored suit of dark orange and brown—not the traditional Jedi robes at all. He also had a grin, a sort of hi-i'm-alek-and-i'm-a-nice-person grin.

"So," Revan looked at Kaye, eyes dancing with mischief, "You must be Kaye."

"Yes." She said simply.

"So, where's the best place to jump off of around here?"

Kaye's eyes widened. "What do you mean?"

"Don't encourage her." Alek said dryly. "We got sent here to stay out of trouble, Rev." He added, for his friend.

Revan pouted. "I was having fun. Master Kae was just being silly, that's all. I was perfectly safe."

"Yes, because jumping off a Coruscant balcony sounds like the definition of safe."

Kaye looked at the two. She'd heard that Revan was the really and truly serious one, for all the trouble she led herself and her friend into. It didn't sound so true, now, seeing both of them.

"You were watching me, so I wouldn't turn into a glob of bloody paste. And anyways, I couldn't perfect that technique without practice."

"Next time," Alek said, sounding almost like he was grinning, at least to Kaye's ear, "just use one of the simulation rooms."

"Yeah, but they're geared for safety. The simulation rooms wouldn't have gotten what I wanted done. So," she said, turning back to Kaye, "any good cliffs higher than twenty meters? Or, even better, higher than thirty meters?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Kaye said slowly, warily.

"Well, you'll just have to come exploring with us, so we don't get lost."

_I swear I never meant to let it die  
I just don't care about you anymore  
It's not fair when you say that I didn't try  
I just don't care about you anymore  
We had time on our side_

Two weeks later, Kaye was unsure how she'd gotten sucked into Revan's scheme.

They were on the plains of Dantooine, Revan somehow having contrived some excuse for a three-day exploration. For all three of them.

And, naturally, Revan'd also perused all of the maps of Dantooine she could find.

So, the party armed with her knowledge, their new-built lightsabers, and light packs with the necessary supplies, Revan was leading them to a set of cliffs.

"Why am I here?" Kaye asked after several hours of trekking, her curiosity burning in her chest. Though, she thought wryly, it might have been her sides.

Revan looked at her, slightly puzzled. "Well… I wasn't sure at first. But I felt like you should come with. And, anyways, Alek is always moaning for a sensible friend, and now he's got you!" Then she leaned, adding in a confidentiall whisper, "And I do occasionally need someone for girl talk. It's not really Al's thing."

Kaye laughed. "Okay, I'll buy that."  
_  
In the beginning we  
We had nothing to hide  
In the beginning you  
You blame me but  
It's not fair when you say that I didn't try  
I just don't wanna hear it anymore  
I swear I never meant to let it die_

Kaye watched Revan and Alek with a critical eye. While she wasn't as good at swordplay as either, she was a close third. And Revan eclipsed both of them in her Force prowess, though she never boasted of it.

"Revan, you're getting sloppy!" She yelled.

Revan, mostly shrouded by a heavy cloak, twisted so her face could be seen. She stuck her tongue out at Kaye, before returning to the ferocious practice bout.

Kaye merely rolled her eyes at her friend's immaturity. She knew Alek was probably doing the same.

In this private courtyard, no apprentices or masters were gathered to watch the three, the two touted prodigies and the more background third prodigy, with her more unusual connection to the Force.

"Al, use your brain, not your brawn!" She cried, a few moments later. That was his one flaw as a fighter. At nineteen, towering over two meters—and her and Revan—with bulging muscle, he often relied on battering an opponent into the ground.

It worked well enough one opponent, generally, but not on a skilled one, like herself or Revan, or against groups, where speed and smarts mattered more.

They fought, Kaye eventually switching in while Revan critiqued, and Revan switching back in while Alek critiqued.

Just three friends, practicing their swordplay.

_I just don't care about you anymore  
It's not fair when you say that I didn't try  
I just don't care about you anymore_

Kaye swallowed. She knew exactly what Revan was asking her to do. She watched the red-and-black mask, dangling in one of her friend's hands. Revan had her hood down, a rare occurrence since just after her eighteenth birthday.

She remembered the day well. A vision had come to Revan while looking at a clump of red flowers. Revan had been pale and withdrawn for days, only discussing it on the barest terms with her and Alek. She'd always gone shrouded by a heavy cloak since, her gender hidden from the galaxy. People soon forgot that Revan was a woman, thinking her a man instead, a man on a hunt for the Mandalorians.

Revan had been more insistent on training, had lost some her joking manner. She'd more than made up for it, with a newly acquired sarcastic wit—but Revan hadn't been quite the same.

"I know I'm asking a lot." Revan's voice was soft. She toyed with the mask in her hands, not looking at either of them. "Probably too much. But we're going, and nothing will stop me."

Kaye swallowed the lump in her throat. Revan looked like a tragic figure, highlighted by the setting Dantooine sun. There was a hint of foreboding about the scene, she thought.

Alek was just as bad in that new red armor, his bald skull gleaming.

"Count me in." Kaye said, after a few more moments. "I can't leave the terrible three to become the terrible two." She joked weakly, "We'll make those Mandies tremble in their armor."

Alek chuckled, and even Revan gave a short laugh. "Right you are, Kaye."

Kaye sensed, rather than heard, _Thank you_.  
_  
You say that I didn't try  
You say that I didn't try  
You say that I didn't try_

Kaye's lightsaber flashed, the silver-white plasma blade mowing through the Mandalorians, in their _beskar_ alloy armor, painted blue. Officers, in red or yellow armor, had been taken down early in the battle, for their pure _beskar_ armor had made them cocky.

Kaye's mind wasn't as much on the battle as on Revan and the newly-christened Malak. Alek had gotten four baby-blue tattoos on his bald head, now calling himself Malak. She was worried about the corruption she saw spreading through the Jedi fighters, worried about the rage that fueled them.

Only herself and Revan seemed untouched by it, and she wasn't even sure about Revan. The last time she'd seen Revan, the woman had been thin, far too thin, but far from frail. There had been something unsettling about her icy demeanor and control, something resigned in her bearing.

Kaye was worried about the state of her fellow warrior Jedi, but she knew there was little for her to do.

She grunted as one Mandalorian sliced her cheek, and she returned her entire focus to the battle, a Jedi beacon for her troops.

_I swear I never meant to let it die  
I just don't care about you anymore  
It's not fair when you say that I didn't try  
I just don't care about you anymore_

Kaye couldn't wait any longer. Above Malachor, she gave the order. Bao-dur, the Zabrak technician, activated his creation—the Mass Shadow Generator.

As Kaye watched, Malachor shook. A wave of pain swept over her. She screamed, though with her mouth or her mind, she wasn't sure.

She was pulled from the bridge, strong arms holding her unresponsive form. She wondered dazedly through her agony where Revan was, why Revan hadn't shown up. She wondered if Revan had known what the Generator would do.

And, with a burst of terrible clarity, she realized that everyone who had been under her command this mission were the ones who Revan was unsure of their loyalty. To Revan. She fainted, even as she realized that Revan had meant to kill her, as she had already done with almost everyone else under her command.

_I just don't care about you anymore  
I just don't care about you anymore  
I just don't care about you anymore  
I just don't care about you anymore_

Kaye couldn't contain her bitter anger.

She was a Jedi no more, so that wasn't a problem.

The Council had exiled her, and she'd been stripped of the Force by the events on Malachor. She thought proudly, for a moment, of her last piece of defiance—plunging her silver-bladed saber into the stones in the courtyard, shedding her cloak as she walked away, head held high.

The Jedi had parted before the exiled once-Jedi general. She'd gotten a passage on a ship to… she couldn't remember where she was.

Pouring another shot of Corellian whiskey, she downed it, thinking bitterly of the Revan's fortitude in setting up a multi-million credit bank account for Kaye. It would support her.

She almost wanted to loose hysterical laughter at her new situation. She was an exiled Jedi without the Force, one-time general to Revan, and she wasn't even sure where she was, drinking herself unconscious.

"Excuse me, are you General Kaye?"

Kaye looked at the woman with an alcohol-glazed eye. Her other eye had been taken in a battle, a scar twisting over the empty socket. "No. I'm the Exile." She slurred. "Go away." She knew Kaye was dead, and had died on Malachor. But everyone would think she was Kaye.

The Exile drank some more whisky, head growing fuzzier with every shot. _Fuzzy is good_, she thought, before slumping unconscious.

* * *

**Now give me reviews!**


	6. Let It Die: Revan

**Disclaimer: Now, I know that a whole lot of you won't believe this, but I _don't own_ KOTOR.**

* * *

_We had fire in our eyes_  
_In the beginning I_  
_Never felt so alive_

Vanara Revan was six years old when Kreia found her on a backwater world in the Outer Rim, stealing food from the ship.

Dirty black hair stretched to the girl's waist. The pale eyes glittered with fear and defiance, then wonder.

"Would you like to be a Jedi, child?" Kreia asked.

The girl's eyes shone. "I want to be the best Jedi ever!"

_In the beginning you_  
_You blame me but_  
_It's not fair when you say that I didn't try_  
_I just don't wanna hear it anymore_

Vanara Revan looked up at the tall boy, her age,

with a mop of unruly brown hair. "I'm Vanara Revan, but just call me Revan." She said, sticking out a hand for him to shake.

"You're so little." He said, looking down at her.

Revan put her hands on her hips. "I'm nine years old! And not everybody is a giant like you!" She snapped. "And you never told me your name."

"Alek Squinquargesimus."

"Squig-a-what-mus?" Revan's nose scrunched up. "I'll call you Squint, for short."

"Squint?" He asked, truly bewildered.

"Well, I'll never remember your last name." She explained. "And you are really tall." Then she grinned. "What do you say we pull a prank on stodgy old Vrook?"

Alek thought for a second. "Why didn't you ask sooner?" He matched her grin. Revan laughed.

_I swear I never meant to let it die_  
_I just don't care about you anymore_  
_It's not fair when you say that I didn't try_  
_I just don't care about you anymore_  
_We had time on our side_

Two seventeen-year-olds faced each other, circling. They were the youth of the Order, the strongest. Alek and Revan, the models. Nearly equal in skill. Alek fought with power, Revan with lithe grace and fast strokes. Alek fought with instinct, Revan planned.

The other Jedi apprentices watched with rapt attention.

"So, Squint," she had never stopped calling him that, "what're your feelings on losing?"

Alek grinned. "I won't lose." She darted forward to attack, her lightsabers—one green, one blue—glowing brilliantly.

"Don't get cocky this early!" Kaye yelled from the crowd. Revan almost turned her head to glare at their friend, who was surely grinning fit to burst.

_In the beginning we_  
_We had nothing to hide_  
_In the beginning you_  
_You blame me but_  
_It's not fair when you say that I didn't try_  
_I just don't wanna hear it anymore_  
_I swear I never meant to let it die_

Revan was twenty now, always shrouded by her cloak as she built up support. She walked through the hip-deep grasses of Cathar, spotting an errant gleam of light on a narrow strip of sand. A red-and-black mask.

She bent and picked it up. Then, slowly, she placed it over her face. She went rigid with shock as she watched what had transpired at the very spot. She winced as she heard the other Jedi. And she knew Alek had seen it all as well.

He placed a large hand on her shoulder, comforting her awkwardly, like an older brother. "We are going to fight now." Revan declared, her voice strange in her own ears. "We can no longer let the peoples of the galaxy suffer."

There was a united cheer.

_I just don't care about you anymore_  
_It's not fair when you say that I didn't try_  
_I just don't care about you anymore_

Revan was in her quarters, studying the plans for the Mass Shadow Generator. The door slid open. She looked up—but it was only Malak. Of course it was. He was the only one who ever came to see her in her quarters, in her strategy room.

He put one of his large hands on her shoulder. "Revan." He studied her. She was wearing a plain tunic and pants; she was aware that she had dark circles under her eyes; she was aware that she was bony. "Revan, you need to eat something."

"I'm fine." She said dismissively. She examined one detail of the plans, wondering how it would affect Kaye's troops.

"No," he half-growled, "You need to eat something."

She glanced up, letting a glint of humor creep into her amber-tinted eyes. "I'm fine, Mal. Really, I am." A lie, but she wasn't called silver-tongued for nothing. "I ate about an hour ago, okay?" A lie. She hadn't had much of an appetite for weeks. All of the things about the war, the things that would have caused anyone else to panic, only sent her to planning. And now, her plans made and ready to be set in motion, there was no going back.

Vanara Revan would regret the death of Kaye, but it was neccessary. The soldiers were not loyal to Revan, but to the General.

She put down the plans, tilting her head back. They had found the first Star Map on Dantooine. Once she had beaten the Mandalorians, she could further explore the Outer Rim and beyond, then return and take control of the Star Forge. She hoped that the droid had been right about the thing.

She looked up at the lone timepeice and sighed. It was time to prepare. Mandalore would die.

Any other outcome was too grim for her to imagine.

_You say that I didn't try_  
_You say that I didn't try_  
_You say that I didn't try_

Revan was alone on the bridge. Her flagship, the pride of the fleet. Staffed with only the best, and only the loyal. She took off her mask, savoring in the power that roiled around her, and Malak. The few other Dark Jedi on her flagship - not Sith, not even close - were loose ends. They had stirrings of disloyalty, and they knew her secret.

She pondered how to kill them and make it look unintentional. Or perhaps she could execute one and keep the others in line.

She gave a sharp shake of her head, replacing the mask. No, no, that wouldn't do. Heavy bootsteps echoed. "Rev, we're ready."

Her lip curled. Malak still referred to her by that ridiculous pet name. "You will refer to me as 'master' or 'lord'." She said haughtily, the voice scrambler making her voice deeper and rough. "Remember your place, Malak." She could sense his smouldering resentment and anger at the reprimand. "Remember who is more skilled." She hissed.

"Yes... master."

She knew he was coveting her title and place. He had been since Dantooine. He had fallen far faster than her. Likely because he was not ruled by his brain, the way Revan was.

Revan wondered how long it would be before she would need to put him in his place.

_I swear I never meant to let it die_  
_I just don't care about you anymore_  
_It's not fair when you say that I didn't try_  
_I just don't care about you anymore_

Revan struggled to keep her rage under control. She had wanted Telos's military devastated—not the planet ravaged! The troops around her cowered slightly, the fury surrounding the dark lord—lady, not that they knew that—almost palpable.

She made a promise to herself then—she would begin restoring the planet as soon as possible. And Malak would pay.

Her head twisted at the hiss of the bridge doors opening. Malak strode in, brash and full of himself. The dark side was evident in his yellow eyes and cracked skin. There was an irony of the dark side. Her eyes more gold than yellow, her bloodlessly pale skin was uncracked, her white-streaked black hair, lips, painted blood-red every morning—tainted beauty, but beauty.

"Malak." The voice scrambler she had installed in the helmet made her now darkly-smooth voice rough and low.

"Master." Malak performed a bow, a tiny bit of confusion in his eyes. "Telos is subdued."

"I ordered you to destroy the military targets—not the planet itself. Is there something wrong with your ears?" Her head tilted. "Or perhaps you were too busy listening to yourself to hear me."

"Master, it was a test of loyalty for Saul Karath."

"It was wasteful." She couldn't afford waste. And it wasn't good for her campaign.

Malak drew his lightsaber. "Perhaps I should take the mantle of dark lord from you." The blade hummed. "After all, I have grown strong." Cockiness radiated off of him.

Revan's lightsabers were in her hands before anyone could blink, her advance impossibly fast. Malak knew how she fought, though, and fended her off for a few moments. The two red sabers and the purple one created arcs of color.

And then she sliced Malak's jaw off. She kicked the hunk of flesh away, both sabers mere centimeters from his throat.

"So, Malak, will you make the mistake of disobeying me ever again?" The golden eyes under her mask were narrowed, waiting for an answer.

A year ago, Revan would have been shocked by how much she had changed. But it wasn't a year ago. And there were none she trusted completely, anyways. Sith ever looked for power. And she did not care to pass the reins, not to someone uninformed.

_I just don't care about you anymore_  
_I just don't care about you anymore_  
_I just don't care about you anymore_  
_I just don't care about you anymore_

She watched Bastila and her Jedi companions take out the rest of her dark Jedi protectors. Not that she needed them.

She could taste the power of Bastila, was already forming plans on how to turn the Jedi child. How to use her to the best advantage.

"You cannot win, Revan." Bastila flourished her lightsaber.

She grinned under her mask, pulling out her sabers. She flourished them, beckoning the Jedi. And, in a flash of heat, she was thrown forward, rolling along the ground. Her body went limp.

_Traitor_. She thought furiously. _Backstabber_.

Before her conscious mind slipped away, she registered blue eyes staring at her in utter shock.


	7. Remember the Name

**Disclaimer: Revan ain't mine. And Fort Minor owns "Remember the Name", my inspiration for this ficlet.**

**This totally ambushed me when I was listening to a music video on YouTube. It just struck me as so... so Revan, because she's such a badass. **

* * *

_This is ten percent luck_

The mask was red and black, well-hidden in the tall grasses and churned dirt. She knew it was pure luck to have caught the gleam of dirty metal.

Picking up the mask, she wiped away some of the dirt with the sleeve of the cloak that shrouded her form. The vision struck her when the bare skin of her wrist struck the mask and she stiffened in horror of what had been revealed.

Luck, indeed, she thought.

_Twenty percent skill_

Her lightsaber flared to life, glowing a pure, bright violet. Each movement was graceful, as if she were dancing rather than fighting, and the Mandalorians fell.

Not a single movement was a wasted effort, not one sweep of the long legs under the black and crimson robes inelegant. The mask was expressionless, yet it was the feircest face on the battle as she carved her way though the ranks.

_Fifteen percent concentrated power of will_

She threw up her hands, her teeth grinding together. She couldn't, couldn't, wouldn't, let the supply ship crash.

The Force responded eagerly and the ship's descent slowed, the flaming engines sputtering into death. Murmurs of awe and fear echoed behind her, but she ignored it in favor of the ship. Slowly, slowly, she dropped her arms and the ship copied her movement, drifting down as lightly as an autumn-dried leaf.

She didn't allow herself to shudder as the pressure lifted from her shoulders when the ship settled down on the grass.

_Five percent pleasure_

She arched her back in pleasure before planting a kiss on the soldier's mouth, ignoring the flavor of alcohol. He obliged by kissing her neck, murmuring the name she'd chosen for the night. She then delicately traced hard muscles, elicting a groan.

Sometimes, the physical pleausure was all she had. Sometimes, she needed to be close to someone.

_Fifteen percent pain_

Her face was drawn under the mask as a medic tended the blaster wounds. An ambush—cleverly planned and executed, she admitted—had nearly killed her, had she not had the Force on her side.

"Are you sure you don't want some painkillers?" The medic asked, bandaging the pale flesh of her abdomen. He was the only medic who knew of her femininity and thus the only she trusted to care for her wounds.

"I'm sure." She hissed, the voice scrambler in the mask giving her a raspy, unidentifiable masculine tone.

He didn't ask again.

_And a hundred percent reason to remember the name_

She smiled down at the body of Mandalore, his head cleaved from his shoulders. "I told you to remember my name." She purred, too softly for the voice scrambler to pick up and do its work. That was okay.

Then she faced the shell-shocked Mandalorians.

"Remember Revan, for Revan defeated you." Her tone was unmistakably viciously pleased, even with her scrambled voice, as she picked up Mandalore's mask. He'd seen her face with his dying breath and the shock was written on his slack features.


	8. Malak Wonders

**Disclaimer: It's possible I could own KOTOR if I were in another dimension... but I'm not, so...**

**This is the first installment of another three-series. Starting with Malak, I think.**

* * *

For many years, Revan and Kaye were the constants in my life. We were the best friends, sticking together against all odds. But those two girls were so different.

Revan was vainly proud of her hair, glossy black and always braided. The braid had draped to the ground and she wore it wrapped loosely around her neck like a scarf. I remembered that well. She'd thrown a fit when one of the masters suggested cutting it, but not a fit like anyone might imagine. She cut away the arguments with deadly precision. And no one had ever suggested she cut her hair again.

She was also proud of her prowess, but she didn't lord it over me and Kaye. She treated us like equals, shrouding herself only from anyone else. When I think about it, that should've been some kind of sign. The mask should have been a sign.

But Revan was mostly a reckless and talented wildfire, uncontainable and borderline bubbly. The side of her that shrouded, the side cold and deadly with icy calculation and no remorse or mercy didn't come out until the war. And then it was neccessary and her charisma—every damned ounce of it—was more than enough to silence any dissent. Even he fell under the spell of her silver tongue.

Kaye was the opposite. Humble as a Jedi was supposed to be, she kept her golden-blonde hair trimmed short, just long enough to be a shaggy mop that always obscured her eyes and their shifts from blue to blue-green to green. She'd had warm golden skin to go with that golden hair, not Revan's paleness that was a stark contrast to her gray eyes and black hair.

Kaye was softer, more girly, than Revan. She was certainly less reckless. Really, she was the least reckless of them all. And she wasn't charismatic, not the way Revan was. She inspired by never stopping, putting everyone before herself. She was beautiful, a quiet beauty compared to the drama of Revan.

And sometimes—just sometimes—he wondered why he loved Revan, not Kaye.


	9. The Exile Rants

**Disclaimer: It's possible I could own KOTOR if I were in another dimension... but I'm not, so...**

**This is the first installment of another three-series. Starting with Malak, I think.**

* * *

I studied the holopic, an old one, of my two one-time friends. I couldn't bring myself to throw it away, not even with the alcohol in my blood allowing my inhibitions to slip away.

"You're both real bastards, you know that?" I know I'm just talking to a holopic, but I don't care.

"You were my friends. Revan, you were so smart and strong and vibrant and you just turned." My voice was little more than a whisper, just enough for the wind that made my hair flutter and rip the words into unintelligible syllables. "You sent me to my death and all you used to think about was training. Making sure nobody cut that damn braid of yours off, being reckless and having fun with me and Alek."

She dry-heaved, the empty air supporting her while the rooftop she was dangling her legs off seemed to lurch wildly.

"And yet you have an account full of credits for me that I'm spending on all the alcohol I can drink, hopping from spaceport to spaceport." I laughed, the sound bitter and furious and sad. "Still you care, even as you gather darkness."

"And Alek... you follow her, so blindly. Oh, I've always known you loved her, my friend. That's why you follow so blindly. You hope she'll someday realize... but Revan was always oblivious. Love was never something she comprehended."

I felt a little crazy talking to thin air, as if it would answer back.

"Not romantic love, anyways. And I know more about her visions than you do. She dreamed of kissing someone else long ago, Alek, and she only knows he wasn't you and she was older and wiser and stronger and he was better. How blind you are, you plodding bantha, for all your battle prowess and strength and Jedi learning."

I laughed again. "Some good Jedi learning has done me."

"You alright, lady?"

I turn my gaze, blue-green eyes hazed with alcohol and tears and rage and sadness, behind me. A man, at least as drunk as me, staggers to the ledge I so carelessly sit on.

"You looking for death?"

The view down is dizzying... to someone other than a former Jedi. "No." My voice is surprisingly steady. "I learned to stop being afraid long ago. My friends," the words tasted bitter on my lips and tongue, "former friends, I mean, heights weren't what scared us." I chuckled, bitter, angry, "no, we feared the dark and only I remain untainted. They pledged to darkness while I was cut off and now I drink."

The tears prickling my eyes fell, the first tears since my exile, when I left my lightsaber, that shadowy white blade, sunk deep into a standing stone as a last scream of defiance.

"We feared the dark."


	10. Revan Broods

**Disclaimer: It's possible I could own KOTOR if I were in another dimension... but I'm not, so...**

**This is the first installment of another three-series... and ending now with Revan.**

* * *

My hands were pale and gaunt, matching the face that stared from the mirror. They were delicately veined with blue, my skin looking as fragile as a peice of flimsi.

Kaye had ribbed me for being too thin, too pale, and as I readied to face Mandalore, I pondered.

Was I?

Thin, pale, they connotated weakness. I was not weak. I was never weak.

I couldn't be. Not with darkness and death swirling around me. Not with Jedi being claimed by the dark side every day, not with the sneaking suspicion that someone was orchestrating the entire war.

My thoughts turned to something else as I started putting on my armor. And in the silence of my chambers, I decided to speak aloud. No one would dare listen and I was in my inner sanctum.

"Kaye," my head hung a bit, "Kaye... by the Force, I know you're going to hate me for this. You wouldn't understand, though. What I'm fighting isn't for the light. You've been my best friend for so long..." I thought about us. We were so different in many ways, but as close as sisters.

I was sending my sister to her death and bringing my brother down the darkest paths.

"You should both hate me." I murmured. "I chivvy one to death and one to darkness."

I felt cool wetness slide down one cheek and wiped away the moisture roughly with my gauntlet. Tears are a foreign thing.

"You don't have time for tears." I reprimanded my reflection, putting on the mask. "You don't have any Force-damned time to be remorseful. You're doing what you must."

I went to one wall, where a single holopic of us three was displayed. I called the small device with the Force, floating it to my palm. "I will do what I must," I flicked the voice scrambler on, "and I have no time for regret. Good-bye, my sister." My fingers curled around the device, bringing the Force to bear. Within seconds, there are only sparking parts.


End file.
